


Meldam

by BiastulaAtornal



Series: OC Kinkstuff Omnibus [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dismemberment, Edgeplay, F/M, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, PAWS, Sweat, Violence, kinkshaming, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiastulaAtornal/pseuds/BiastulaAtornal
Summary: in which a fetish OC has an existential crisis





	Meldam

**Author's Note:**

> (just in case--the 'kink-shaming' element is just part of the story! I'm not a kink-shamer! And even if I wanted to be...considering the stuff I'm into, I have NO grounds for pointing fingers!)

“I mean, a bit of spice in my life would be nice, now and again.”

 

His creator couldn’t exactly grant him a coherent response, on account of the heavy, fuzzy paw grinding down onto her face. The two aliens were situated face to rear, the speaker’s free paw swinging idly next to the quiet one’s muzzle. Violet-hued claws tapped the ground. 

 

A plumed tail draped over Nova’s head, flicking absently.

 

“There’s only so many ways you can smash a girl into gibs before the whole scene kind of...loses some charm. You know?”

 

They were unwashed. His feet were so clearly unwashed. These putrid toes had been left alone for so long, fur soaking in his natural stench, pads picking up all manner of dirt and muck...

 

“Wait, what am I saying? Of course you don’t. You’re not me.” His tail curled, the feathered tip hanging in the vein of a question mark. “But, hey. I’m open to suggestions.”

 

The fresh, warm aroma of moist pads flooded her nostrils, sweat glistening in the moderate light. Every deep, desperate breath was that of his odour, his essence. Her claws scraped the ground in the full knowledge that there was nowhere to go and almost just as little else to do. Taking a slant victory, she turned her head.

 

Languidly, the male extended his hindleg, and the flesh of his paw was on her again, smothering her. His claws skittered along her chest, sliding along with an odd gentleness, and Nova spluttered--and took in another round of smelly paw that rubbed partway into her open mouth. Long strands of his fur, just as saturated in musk, only served to localise the stink even more.

 

She’d forgotten where his other paw was until, with no warning, the rough pads were mushing warm against her cheek. She hadn’t realised that her head had been yanked up once more, just in time for both paws to enfold her face. Her accomplice’s claws locked around the back of her head, pressing the meat of his paws into her--glob upon glob of sweat being slooowly ground into her cheeks with each rhythmic squeeze.

 

Nova coughed and whined as her face was positively  _ marinated _ in the sickly stench, fresh from his relentless, reeking, slick soles. She could barely think straight to begin with, and yet her head spun with nausea. Sweat seeped in through her near-closed lips, spreading his pungent taste across her tongue. 

 

This guy wasn’t exactly strong, and yet her head was fixed quite firmly in place. The pads of his toes flexed against her, thick with strength and with stink. Each grind seemed stronger than the last, every cheesy whiff of air thicker, harsher...

 

Then, he was off her. She took an eager gulp of fresh air, and blinked several times in succession. He was next to her. With another, slighter breath, she turned--

 

His palm flew across her cheek with a resounding  _ SMACK. _

 

The vacillant’s neck ached still more as her head snapped back. Nova could only whimper quietly. She’d barely even registered the blow. Just another stab of pain amongst the overwhelming ache--the  _ sound _ was arguably worse.

 

“I said, ‘I’m open to suggestions,’ Nova. Damn, I can’t even rely on you for that, huh? Jeez, I don’t know why I keep trying! Will you impress me someday?”

 

With practiced ease, his forepaw slid from her cheek to brace against her snout, digits locking around her jaw as casually as you please, while his other paw idly traced around her neck...before clamping down just as firmly, tearing into her flesh, staining once lightly-hued claws with a heady, bloody hue.

 

She yelped, shaking her head more on instinct than plan, only feeling the thrum behind her eyes grow stronger and harsher. Blood welled up from scars fresh and re-opened, slicking up her already-sweaty form. Her own claws dug into the meat of his bicep, slashing a fair wound across his arm.

 

The recipient seemed unaware. Or merely uncaring.

 

His head fell to her chest as he continued his absent motions. “Yeah, my hopes aren’t high...and they never were to begin with.” His claws hooked, bringing out a fresh bloody splash. “But all I can do is try again.” 

 

He cupped her face, and gazed at her.

 

Once-pale, lavender, striped paws were now hued with silvery gore. The pads were warm on her face, with plenty of give, slightly damp with sweat. Harder in comparison, her cheekbones sunk into the cushy sponges of flesh. The vacillant stared at a point just past his face, kept grounded by the feeling of her own blood cooling against her.

 

“So, run. Give me a challenge. Give me that, at least.”

 

“I c-can’t...my leg. Attle, you broke my leg…”

 

“I see another, fully functional limb right here,” he said, nodding at Nova’s free hindleg. He’d let go of her face.

 

The heady scent of him still swirled through her nostrils. He’d let go of her face? Her snout scrunched up, the owner confused as she realised she was being spoken to. An eloquent or even basic response escaped her, tongue still overwhelmed by his salty, meaty taste.

 

Attle spoke as if he were addressing a very young child. "I said, didn’t I. A working limb. Riiiight there, Nova."

 

The vacillant shook her head, trying to wrench off the alien’s afterimage as she lurched around. One leg bent under her as she steadied herself-- _ oh, the good one, okay. _ Tortured body shivering, she leapt on--

 

And screeched as her bad leg remained pinned under his claws, tendons straining and muscles quivering.

 

She hadn’t even felt him holding on.

 

“You made me honest. And so, I won’t hold back in saying that this limb is right pointless and needs to go.”

 

As one last breath wheezed from her throat, the vacillant finally felt herself ease back, out of her body, out of her mind.

 

Only to snap back into awareness after what felt like a few seconds, choking on a silent scream as her partner gave one measured  _ tug _ , tearing the bad leg free from her body with a low, wet  **sshhhlllorrk.**

 

“Damn. You are  _ thick as _ down there. How long did that  _ take? _ Now we know where all the strength is, I guess, ‘cause there certainly ain’t none on the brain up there.”

 

Pain shot through her, hitting in full force with only a second’s delay. She vomited, a thin and stringy mess splattering down her front. 

 

“Welp! Guess I need my fuel for the next few decades of doing jack shit!”

 

Her vision flickering, Nova twitched where she lay, focused just aligned enough to provide an adequate view of Attle sinking his fangs into her detached thigh. 

 

“Mmfh--huh, ‘least ‘at taeshtes ‘lrigh’.” The male paused to swallow-- ***glorp*.** Blood and fat stained his chest as he turned his attention to his paws, licking over and between each digit as if he had all the time in the world. Which, in essence, he really did. A small and almost cute tongue rested amidst two glistening claws, their owner in a silly little pose as he stopped to ruminate some more.

 

Done, as of now, he took another bite, deeper this time: the flesh was tough, his teeth gliding as slowly through the flesh as smoke does through air. That pinkish tongue lapped at the meaty juices as they leaked out. Only after his canines had sunk as deep as they could go did Attle start to pull back, and out came another chunk, larger, more fluids oozing out the further he pulled, skin tearing, bones--

 

“Hey...hey, Nova.  _ Hey. _ ”

 

Oh, why?

 

Nova cringed away, teeth showing as he--flicked her, once, across the brow.

 

“Listen, this isn’t easy for me either. We both know what is. If you don’t stay with me for  _ that… _ ” 

 

Falling quiet, Attle reared up once more and stared at her. Taking his time, he lowered a paw to rest against her remaining thigh. His toes contracted, quiet cracks barely audible as they did so, and then relaxed. They were an immediate, warm weight on her leg.

 

Attle pulled away. His pads, soaked as they were with sweat (some of which was not his own, now) seemed to stick to the ground with every step. As he lifted his paws, the pads  _ peeled _ away one by one, sticky and moist. The musk was almost visible, curling thickly up from wherever he walked. Still so very silent.

 

His next stop was at her own, smaller paw, the one she still possessed: source of a black mess of pads, hot and sweaty with a cheesy reek that rivalled his own. The male scowled at the thought, bringing a paw forth to clasp with hers--the vacillant’s claws bearing down on instinct. He ignored them, leaning forward as he nestled her paw within his, furred toes encompassing hairless ones with little effort. Squeezing around them. Sweat oozed from every pore, marring his already matted fluff with the salty stink. He squeezed again.

 

The pain had begun to ebb away, but Nova was not fool enough to assume the end in sight. Feeling as if her head had been stepped on, she just let Attle have his way with her paw, unable to brace herself internally anymore. Taut as she had been with tension, she’d never turned out ready to fight him off, so...oh, he was done, and--

 

He was on her, hindpaw pressing forcefully between her legs and applying one delicious, ...gradually... _ increasing _ force upon her turgid sac. “Here we go! Here’s my  _ very special talent. _ Born and bred to do this!”

 

Jaw slackened, the vacillant squirmed under the assault. She could feel blood crusting on her nape and back, another uncomfortable feeling to throw on the pile. These were the most gentle of his touches, and every one of them sent a tingle up her spine. Caught between pain and pleasure, no words would come to light.

 

“I would call you a disgusting little freak, but…” The paw curved up, and loosely rested under her sac, squeezing. “But you’d like that. Wouldn’t you? I know you would. So I can’t win either way.”

 

That paw almost seemed to be clenched around her throat, in turn--as saliva frothed from her mouth, Nova garbled, incoherent. With no surface to grip, she forced one shaking forepaw to her mouth, the other twitching, held above her chest. Her body writhed and ached under the force and the cuts.

 

Sensitive nerves quailed under his touch. Her form felt aflame. More and more fluids seeped from her sac as she shuddered with pleasure. There was a pressure inside, flagging before but now rising, building...building,  _ building, _ already so close--

 

The friction was gone, and soon after the sensation, with Attle’s saunter away in deceptive calm.

 

Nova knew better than to scream.

 

So, she only lay there, bruised and clawed and so very horny, on the verge of unconsciousness once more. Knowing that he wasn’t kind nor cruel enough to kill her.

 

The male huffed to himself, strutting further along. Almost casually, he halted, giving the sole of his foot a sweep along the ground. A dirty mixture of fluids stained the earth, some still clinging to his toes as he lifted them. From this distance, his annoyed grimace was plain as day, hanging in the air even as he turned away. Not even a word to displace the silence, but the afterimage of his anger.

 

Rapid footsteps were what broke the spell. Attle seemed to want this done.

 

He stood over her and smiled his humourless smile.

 

“Thanks for that. Thanks for all this.”

 

She didn’t answer.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, this is Attle's entire purpose.
> 
> after all this time, he's been thinking a lot.


End file.
